


Hearth & Home

by Asallia



Series: Asallia Commissions [1]
Category: Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, First Meetings, Historical, Hurt/Comfort, Maids, Victorian, commission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28632312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asallia/pseuds/Asallia
Summary: Yohane is the lady of a house without any other occupants, her days spent in isolation away from the prying eyes of those who would look down upon her interest in the arcane. When her childhood friend hires her a maid, however, Yohane learns that some people are worthy of her trust after all.
Relationships: Kurosawa Dia/Tsushima Yohane
Series: Asallia Commissions [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185734
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Hearth & Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scarlettholly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettholly/gifts).



> My first commission! A huge thanks to Holly for a) being amazing in general, but also b) trusting me enough to be my first customer. Hopefully you like what I did with your prompt!

To live alone is to live with the spirits, their moans and wails echoing in the creak of the floorboards and the chimes of the grandfather clock. It is to be one with silence, to thrive in it. Here, in the empty mansion that the lady Yohane called home, it was to take sanctuary from the unscrupulous masses.

At least, that’s what Yohane told herself. She kept herself sequestered away from sunlight and from life itself, content to spend her days attending to her business through a few trusted associates and to spend the remainder performing her arcane rituals, away from the prying eyes of those who would brand her a heretic and look down on her with disdain in her hearts. After all, the spirits of those long since passed made for good company in her endeavors to understand the world beyond this one.

However, life is not always inescapable. Despite Yohane’s best efforts, there had always been those who would seek to interrupt her silence - least of all, her dearest (and possibly only) friend.

“Hey Yohane! I’m here!”

The shout came quickly after the opening of the door, given away by the creak of its hinges - and notably, not before the sound of even a single solitary knock. Yohane scowled to herself, before setting aside her spellbook and shrugging on some kind of an excuse for proper attire. She made her way to the second story landing, looking down at the foyer below.

“Oh, street urchin. You return.”

The corners of Kanan’s lips curled upward.

“Does that mean you missed me?”

“It _means_ ,” Yohane answered with a dramatic sigh as she descended down the staircase, “that you can’t be bothered to send a messenger in advance to let me know of your coming. But yes, I did.”

“I don’t have the cash to hire one,” Kanan replied with a shrug. “Figured you couldn’t be doing anything that pressing anyways.”

“You’re interrupting a ritual.”

Kanan looked at her curiously.

“And that’s…?”

“Important,” Yohane finished for her with a roll of her eyes.

“Can I help?”

~=O=~

It wasn’t long until Yohane found herself back in her study, childhood friend in tow as the two of them resumed the incantation Yohane had been experimenting on previously. It swiftly went nowhere, however, cursed by a lack of _something_ that she just couldn’t quite put her fingers on. Perhaps it needed some sort of catalyst - she would need to have someone visit the black market on her behalf soon in order to procure the necessary samples. Money was no object when it came to the arcane arts.

“I don’t really get what you’re doing with all this crap anyways,” Kanan replied after a moment’s pause. She laid back, discarding the book of spells onto the floor with a dull _thunk_ onto the hardwood floor. “This room looks like a hurricane hit it.”

“ _Hardly_ ,” Yohane spat back. “Everything has its place here.”

Kanan lifted a vial of blood that lay on the floor. “This?”

“Gimme that!” Yohane snapped childishly, wrestling it out of Kanan’s hands in a fumbled motion. “You don’t know what you’re playing with here.”

In lieu of a reply Kanan only laughed, that same infuriatingly easygoing sound she always had at the ready. Her arms went up behind her head.

“I _do_ know that you need a hand. It’s not healthy to hold yourself up in here, you know?”

“Have you breathed the air outside?” Yohane asked scurrilously.

“Oh, it isn’t _that_ bad. I’ve only grown what, two extra limbs?”

“Funny.”

“I do my best,” Kanan replied with a dopey grin. “Just go out into the country instead, use some of that royalty money and get a cottage.”

“For the last time, I’m not royalty. I’m minor nobility.”

“Same difference.”

Yohane heaved an indignant sigh.

“Kanan, they don’t understand me.”

“They?” Kanan asked.

“ _Everyone_ ,” Yohane replied emphatically. “Everyone but you, it seems. They all look at me like they pity me, like they think I’m crazy for pursuing my studies. I have no place in polite society anymore, and I don’t want to have one. Going out into the country would give me what, a week of reprieve before everyone out there realizes that I’m cursed to study the arcane?”

“Yeah, I figured you’d say something about that.” A sad smile crossed Kanan’s face, though one that carried no pity. Only empathy. “Figured it was worth a shot anyways. I worry.”

“Kanan, you know that I enjoy your company. That being said, did you come here for something or just to worry?”

“I did have a reason, actually,” Kanan said. She reached into the pocket of the messenger bag she carried with her, pulling out an envelope. It was no different from the many other letters that Kanan always seemed to have on hand as a courier, but this one stood out in one small way, with a seal featuring a flowering rose.

“What is this?” Yohane asked, taking the letter and cradling it in her hands.

“I hired you a maid.”

Yohane sat in silence, brows knit as she stared at the letter. When she met Kanan’s gaze once more, it was with indignancy.

“I do NOT need a maid, Kanan..”

“Well too late, because she’ll be here tomorrow. You have plenty of spare room here to put someone up, why not?”

“Because you can’t just decide something like this for me!” Any sense of calm Yohane had once carried vanished in an instant, replaced by the anxiety she so often carried with her when faced with confronting another living soul besides Kanan and the few associates she let in. “I mean, what if she sees…” An arm gestured wildly to the pentagram in the center of the room.

“Listen, it’ll be fine,” Kanan replied in an attempt at reassurance. “I talked to her myself about it, she’s a friend of mine and I think she’s exactly what you need. She’ll only be here to keep the house in order, not to judge.”

Yohane calmed down, if only a small bit. She looked to Kanan.

“You’re sure?”

“When have I ever let you down?” Kanan asked. Yohane paled.

“All those pranks you played on me when we were kids?”

“Loving pranks,” Kanan corrected humoredly. “Now I gotta bounce and finish my rounds for the day. Got someone out in the sticks to get to. She’ll be here at nine, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Yohane confirmed. She only hoped that the latest of Kanan’s impulses wouldn’t disrupt her quiet, yet alone her work.

~=O=~

The knock came at exactly nine in the morning, three harsh _thumps_ echoing throughout the foyer just as the grandfather clock in the corner began chiming. The two sounds worked in tandem to startle Yohane awake from her weary rest, head lying flat against her desk. She put herself together long enough to putter toward the door, the thumping more and more frequent until at last she flung it open.

The woman outside drew little attention to herself, clad in a conservative maid outfit and wielding a feather duster and chest as though they were sword and shield. Her jet-black hair and blunt bangs framed her face like a work of art, drawing attention to the beauty mark that adorned the corner of her lip. Aside from that, however, she carried herself with an air that was both unassuming and single-minded in its purpose.

“Mistress,” the woman spoke with a slight curtsy before walking inside, past Yohane and into the foyer. “Dia Kurosawa, at your service. I understand there’s a lot to do, if our mutual friend is to be believed?”

“She often isn’t,” Yohane snarked. “But, uh… I must admit, I don’t know what to ask of you. It’s rare for me to have another soul in here of my own free will.”

Dia gave a smile, friendly yet somehow disconcerting in its rigidity. She set her chest on the ground, but continued to wield her duster.

“Don’t worry, I have it all under control. Shall we start with your study?”

“Already?! No, wait, that room is off…” Yohane’s voice trailed off as she realized that Dia was already climbing the stairs without her, feather duster and sense of purpose in tow. She heaved a sigh, then began to follow.

~=O=~

“Mistress, this room is absolutely _filthy_.”

It had hardly been two minutes when Dia began to do exactly as Yohane feared, barging into the study at the worst possible time. In the middle the floor stood the preparations of a _very_ important ritual involving the summoning of a malevolent spirit for containment; in theory, at least. Yohane stammered as she raced in to find Dia staring at the scene before her.

“Did I say you could enter?”

“You did not,” Dia responded calmly. She drifted into the room, carefully avoiding the chalked pentagram on the floor. “And yet I need to clean it anyways. Funny how that works.”

Yohane rolled her eyes, yet assented enough to follow inside, kicking aside a book that blocked her path on the floor - which Dia immediately picked up, a frown on her face.

“This has a place, does it not?”

“... Does it matter?” Yohane asked in a theatrically-tinted voice.

“It does when it adds up, mistress. And as you can see, it has already done so.” She gestured with a wave of the hand to the rest of the room, objects strewn all about as though a storm had swept trash from the street gutter up and through the window. “And for god’s sake, open a window.” She punctuated the thought by undoing the latch on the window, swinging it wide open to usher in a fit of cold, crisp air. Next, her vision returned to the mess on the floor. “And now that _that’s_ done, are you really prepared to tell me any of this has a purpose?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Yohane replied emphatically and with no small amount of venom in the sting of her voice. She knew it - they were all the same, in the end. They didn’t understand.

Perhaps Dia noticed the edges of Yohane’s guard rising up, because the corners of her eyes began to slowly soften at the sound of the emphatic response. She looked to the mess, then back at Yohane’s wounded face.

“Okay, then.” She walked to a vial on the ground, picking it up and raising it to eye level. “What is this?”

Yohane stood in silence a moment, attempting to process the question.

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ ,” Dia clarified with a huff, “that I can’t keep this room tidy if I don’t understand what I’m organizing.”

“Oh.” The word sat limp in the musty air of Yohane’s study, rendered near-inhospitable for human consumption by years of closed windows and noxious substances wafting their way into every corner.

“What’s this?” Dia raised the vial pointedly, looking at Yohane expectantly.

“It’s white sage,” Yohane eventually explained tepidly. “For ritual offerings, to be burned as incense.”

“And that?” Dia set the vial down on the table and pointed to a preserved organ lying on the floor, moving toward it.

“Don’t!” Yohane shouted, and Dia immediately recoiled away from it. Yohane flashed a sheepish smile. “It’s toxic. Toad wart. Should be careful with it.”

In a gesture of good faith, she picked it up and moved it to a spare shelf in the back of the room, intended to contain ritual ingredients yet barren as the Sahara itself. Dia cracked a small smile.

“Are you a god-fearing woman, Mistress?” she asked. “Pardon the question.”

Yohane scowled. “I have little taste for the institutions imposed on me. I prefer to find my own meaning in the cosmos. Hence…” She waved grandiosely across the room. “All this. And you?”

“I fear little, Mistress. God least of all. You’d do good to take heed of that.”

Yohane laughed for a moment, but soon she realized that Dia was deadly serious. The laughter died down shortly thereafter.

“I understand your hesitancy, Mistress, but I’ll take proper care of your… supplies,” Dia eventually decided on. “Perhaps, if you don’t mind, you could show me more of what it is that you do with all this. I would be interested to learn more, so that I can better organize it all.”

Yohane frowned.

“I thought you were disturbed by all this.”

“I admit I was for a moment,” Dia replied thoughtfully, as she began dusting the empty bookshelf. “But it is rare that I have an opportunity to expand my horizons. We are not all as fortunate as you, after all. I’d be remiss not to take the opportunity.”

The smile that crossed Yohane’s face at those words was reticent, if hopeful. To have someone who wished to be taught the wonders of the arcane? Perhaps this wouldn’t be _such_ a terrible arrangement, after all.

~=O=~

“Your tea, Mistress.”

Dia drifted into the living room late that evening, handing a cup of steaming black tea on the table beside Yohane. She was situated in front of the roaring hearth, fending off the harsh bite of the October chill that even her luxurious abode wasn’t capable of insulating her from. She grabbed the teacup, taking a few hesitant sips before smiling.

“You know how I like my tea.”

“Kanan made sure to let me know in advance,” Dia explained warmly. Since she’d arrived, her mannerisms had changed drastically - where once stood regiment and purpose this morning now was filled by an easygoing calm. “Could I offer you anything else before you retire?”

Yohane hesitated. She had one question on her mind, but struggled to actually bring herself to ask it. That required trust, and it had been a long time since she’d held faith in anyone other than herself.

“... Why are you being so kind all of a sudden?”

A rather childish pout formed on her face, if unintentionally. She took a sip or two more of tea, savoring its perfectly milky consistency.

“Is that not what I’m here for?” Dia asked, bemusedly.

“Well, I guess, but…”

“But?”

“But you were so different this morning,” Yohane replied. Admittedly, the words struck her as being silly as soon as she’d said them, yet she couldn’t help letting them loose anyways. Dia only smiled, her face lit aflame in warm hues of orange and red. The sight reminded Yohane of the gentle, hazy beauty of those impressionist paintings that were apparently all the rage these days.

“The job of a maid is twofold, Mistress. The days are for hearth and home, and keeping this all in order is.. a rather hefty feat if I may say so. The evenings are for you. Do you understand?”

Yohane eyed her skeptically.

“I do.”

“You don’t sound like you trust me,” Dia said pointedly.

“So what if I don’t?” Yohane replied.

“If you can’t trust me, you can’t trust anyone else, you know.”

“And I don’t trust them either, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Dia rolled her eyes as she drifted closer to Yohane, leaning over the back of the chair so that she looked down on Yohane’s head sternly.

“Well then, consider this a chance to learn. Being a shut-in isn’t good for your health, you know.”

“What a surprise, Kanan said that too. You can’t make me do anything either,” Yohane shot back. “You’re a maid, not my mother.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s best,” Dia responded in a sure enough tone of voice that Yohane had little recourse to come up with a retort. In lieu of doing so she leaned back in her chair, heaving a grandiose sigh. There was no sense in antagonizing someone like Dia; even someone as isolated as Yohanehad the sensibility to know that much.

“Fine,” she said. “I hired you, I’m willing to hear you out.”

“Good.” Dia offered up a soulful smile. “Now, what can I do for you?”

Yohane sat for a moment with the question lingering in the air, sipping on her tea and listening to the crackling of the fire.

“I… _am_ feeling a little tense,” she finally offered up. Dia bent lower, humming thoughtfully.

“A massage then, Mistress?”

Her hands came to Yohane’s shoulders, gripping them gently but with firm intent. Yohane flinched at the contact, and Dia began to pull away.

“No!” Yohane shouted suddenly, caught off-guard by the intensity of her own objection. “No,” she repeated softly. “Sorry, I just… I’m not used to…”

“Physical contact?” Dia asked, and Yohane nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle. Okay?”

“Okay,” Yohane responded, leaning back into her chair as Dia’s hands took hold of her shoulders once again. They moved in a circular pattern, dipping down and applying pressure only selectively. At first it hurt ever so slightly, but as time went on Yohane began to find that the pain melted away, replaced by a strangely novel kind of relief. She breathed a sigh as Dia focused to work on a knot, before moving upward to the bare skin of her neck. Dia’s touch was tender, fingers calloused from busywork yet deft in their precision.

The sensation was strange. Yohane _never_ let anyone touch her, yet alone in such an intimate way. Every instinct screamed at her that this was wrong, that Dia was yet another person who looked down upon her. Perhaps they might have taken hold of her psyche, but here, now, the desperate need for physical touch was too powerful. It made her feel genuine warmth, where once had been nothing but gnawing, bitter cold.

Good things ultimately prove ephemeral, however, and finally Dia let go. By instinct, Yohane nearly found herself lifting off the chair in order to keep the physical contact unbroken, but thought better of it.

“There, see? No harm came of you.”

“I… suppose,” Yohane mumbled, a hand reaching to the back of her neck to feel where Dia’s hands had been. “Thank you, I feel much better.”

“You’re very welcome,” Dia replied with a polite smile. “Now, shall we retire?”

~=O=~

There was a strange relief that came with not having to be the one to tend to the late night chores, to confront darkness itself. Nights had a way of reminding Yohane of the yawning loneliness that she carried with her always. To extinguish each candle and lamp, to lock the doors and retire to her bedchamber in the pitch black of night, filled her with dread; the feeling was only amplified when she tucked herself into bed and felt the vastness of the empty space on the other side.

Yet now she could climb the stairs and prepare herself bathed in the warmth of light, knowing that Dia would be following shortly for her own bedchambers. Yohane washed herself up and changed from her dress into a flowing black nightgown, ready to get some rest when she heard a gentle rap on the door.

“Mistress?” said a voice outside. Yohane walked to the door, opening it with a frown.

“Is everything alright? I trust your accommodations are suitable.”

“They will be once I make myself at home,” Dia responded matter-of-factly. She held aloft a teacup. “Some chamomile for you. It should help to aid your sleep and soothe your throat.

“Thank you, Dia,” Yohane replied. Her face held no small amount of surprise at the kindness of the gesture, and she eagerly reached out for the teacup - but Dia pulled back.

“You wouldn’t want to burn yourself, Mistress. Just get into bed, okay?”

“Oh, I, uh…” Yohane stammered, caught off-guard. “Sure.” She bade herself toward the bed, peeling away the covers on her favorite side and slipping in, her back against the headboard. Before she could pull them up, however, she found herself superceded by Dia, who had placed the teacup on the night stand and moved to tuck her in.

“I can do this myself,” Yohane said with a pout on her face. “I don’t need you.”

“I know you can. Now quit complaining,” Dia replied with a finality that left Yohane unable to do little other than comply. Dia pulled the sheets and then the comforter over her, taking a moment to smooth them out with a few quick swipes and then tuck the edges into the side of the mattress. Only then, after a hum of satisfaction to signal a job well done, did she hand Yohane the teacup. It was delicious, just warm enough to be the perfect accompaniment to the frigid bite of an autumn night yet not enough to scald her tongue.

“Now,” Dia spoke again, “I’ll retire for the night. Assuming you’re satisfied.”

“I feel spoiled,” Yohane replied, a wry lit to her voice. “Thank you, sincerely.”

“Of course, Mistress. It’s what I’m here for, after all.”

She moved to the door, preparing to extinguish the last candle before Yohane reached out a hand to stop her.

“Could… could you leave it burning?”

Dia smiled.

“Yes, Mistress. Now get some sleep.”

Before long the door was shut, leaving Yohane alone with the gentle flicker of the candle and the steam rising from her tea for company. As she took another sip, she mulled the events of the day, turning them over and over in her mind a million different ways.

Isolation had long suited her tastes, but perhaps the company and care of another soul wasn’t so bad after all. The arcane was a long road, paved with the judgements of all those who looked down on her for what she did. Yet here was a solitary soul who may not have understood, but _wanted_ to understand.

As Yohane drifted off, she dreamt of feather dusters and teacups and roaring fires in the hearth. It was a peaceful rest.


End file.
